


Reali-tea Is the Most Difficult Blend to Swallow

by Franstastic_Ideas



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yandere Altertale, F/M, Yandere Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21678622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franstastic_Ideas/pseuds/Franstastic_Ideas
Summary: Frisk was so lucky to have been found by Sans during her time of need, at least, that’s what she had thought at first. The skeleton has been so kind, opening up his home to her, cooking meals for just the two of them, brewing her tea… and all that he asks for in return is the joy of her company. She was happy to oblige him that much, as Sans seemed to give off the impression to her of being lonely for some reason. But little did Frisk know and was soon to discover, he’s far more emotionally needy than she ever could have imagined…
Relationships: Frisk/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 136





	Reali-tea Is the Most Difficult Blend to Swallow

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Several instances of yandere behavior. Pretty self-explanatory.
> 
> Also, my interpretation of the Altertale universe is probably extremely different than what’s been established in the original creator’s canon. For instance, even though they don’t appear in this story, Asgore and Toriel are apparently supposed to be siblings, but should they ever appear in Yandere Altertale, they’ll be an unrelated happily married couple.
> 
> Some of the other changes I’ve made are spoilers until the reader has finished this fic, and thus can’t be mentioned.
> 
> The creator of Yandere Altertale is semisolidmind on Tumblr, so if you like this story, then make sure to send semi some appreciation and love!
> 
> And finally, Happy Early Birthday, lostmypotatoes! I was gonna wait until the 10th, but since you insisted that I post it now, you and everybody else are getting this fic six days early! Enjoy!

Frisk didn’t know how long it had been since she fell, nor how deep underground she had fallen, but what she was aware of was – she couldn’t move.

Her unintentional descent into the cavern beneath the mountain had been a long one, and it was honestly a strange sort of miracle in itself that she managed to somehow survive the impact. The bed of buttercups beneath her had cushioned her fall, but she _couldn’t move_. Frisk attempted to push herself up into a sitting position before a sharp pain coursed through her right leg as well as her left arm, returning the girl to her previous arrangement of lying with her back pressed against the flowers.

Both limbs were broken, she acknowledged, and that was when the panic truly began to set in.

Frisk was down here, alone in an empty cavern, injured and immobile, and this place was going to be her grave.

Nobody knew where she was, currently.

Not that anyone would come for her if her location was made known, she thought to herself with a grief-laden sigh.

“Howdy!” A cheery voice suddenly called out to her from somewhere beyond her vision, catching Frisk’s attention immediately.

“H-Hello…?” She replied weakly, trying to turn her body in the direction she had heard the greeting come from.

Just as she succeeded in turning her head, out of the corner of her eye, Frisk saw a flower similar in appearance to yet significantly larger than the others that she was absolutely certain wasn’t there before looming over her.

And even more concerning was; this particular flower had a _face_.

The talking flower stared down at her with beady black eyes and a cartoonishly wide dimpled smile. Frisk immediately came to the conclusion that she must have also hit her head when she had fallen, and this happy little plant was an adorable hallucination that manifested from her damaged mind, aiming to bring her comfort and security in what was to be her final moments. However, the flower then leaned even closer towards her, and that was when she felt the texture of his leaves brush over her skin when the motile plant apparently decided to poke her nose, proving that he was made of solid matter.

“Stop staring at me like that – didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to be rude! I thought you were a hallucination…”

“Nope. I’m definitely real.” He winked and stuck out his tongue, an organ that he did in fact prove to possess through this little gesture. “I’m Flowey. Flowey the Flower! And it seems to me that you took quite the fall there! You look like you could use some help.”

“Yes, I would really appreciate it!” She pushed aside the shock of discovering a talking flower living in a remote cavern underground for the moment; she tried to move once more, even just a short distance, but her efforts once again proved to be unsuccessful. “I’m sure I’ve broken a few bones; in one leg and one arm. I’m completely immobile…”

“Oh, that’s too bad…” Flowey began to look around the surrounding area, holding both of his leafy appendages up to his squinting eyes as if they were binoculars. “And it looks like the smiley trashbag is nowhere to be found too.”

 _“Smiley… trashbag…?”_ Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Was there someone else that lived in this cavern as well? What did they look like? Were they a talking flower too, or something else entirely? Either way, it seemed her photosynthesizing pal wasn’t too fond of this other person, if the designated nickname was all she had to go by. Even so, Flowey still spoke of them in a continued cheery tone and the smile on his face hadn’t slipped by even the smallest of degrees.

“He could help you if he were here, but the worthless pile of bones is probably somewhere sleeping; dead to the world. Your bad luck just keeps multiplying like garden weeds, doesn’t it?” He continued with a sigh, shaking his head. “Oh well… I guess little ‘ol me will have to do…”

Before Frisk could go about questioning him of how he might possibly do that, she felt the ground around her begin to suddenly shift and tear. It seemed her petaled friend could also control the vines that bound him to the earth, because soon they were wrapping around her body, far bigger than she would have imagined them to be and lifting her into the air with ease.

She was about to ask Flowey what his plan was from here – did he intend to deliver her to this other person he previously mentioned? Or was he going to extend his vines that seemed to have no visible end upwards and return her to the surface? But Frisk didn’t get to ponder Flowey’s available options for too long before she was abruptly released from his hold and sent hurtling towards the ground again. She fell with a loud thud, but this time there wasn’t anything below her to soften the impact.

At her collision she heard the sound of something snapping coming from her own body, and an entirely new wave of pain flooded her senses.

“Oopsie! How clumsy of me!” Flowey announced, his numerous vines immediately swarming her once again before she could say anything, their grip on her being far less gentle than they had been previously. “I won’t drop you again – I promise.”

She wiggled in the vines’ hold futilely, her fight or flight instincts beginning to kick in as they grew tighter and tighter around her limbs and the rest of her body in an almost crushing hold. Frisk found herself being jerked towards Flowey until she was dangling upside down in front of his smiling face, which now looked nothing but ominous when it had just moments ago seemed friendly and helpful.

“What’s the matter, human? Don’t you trust me?” He didn’t allow her the opportunity to answer before his expression turned nightmarish, his mouth morphing into a malevolent grin that sported far too many teeth than the normal maw. “You shouldn’t… not me, or anyone else down here for that matter. _Especially_ not me. And do you know why…?”

His whispery voice deepened to a demonic growl.

**“Because in this world, i t ‘ s k i l l o r b e k i l l e d...”**

He then flung Frisk against the wall of the cavern by her ankle. She barely had time to let out a wild scream of fright and agony before he slammed her face first into the ground once again, but he still wouldn’t release her, his vines still tightly wrapped around her body and placing a needless amount of pressure on her broken limbs.

“See, I kept my promise!” He cackled, his voice having returned to that higher pitched disarmingly cutesy one he had used to lure her in previously, nearly singing as he proclaimed, “I said I wouldn’t drop you, and I _didn’t_ ~!”

Frisk twitched and trembled on the cave floor, suffering and writhing. She was about to die, that much she was certain of. If not from the injuries she had already sustained, then from whatever it was Flowey intended to do with her next. She had already resigned herself to her fate before she had encountered this vile sentient plant, but this wasn’t at all how she had expected her life to end. The terror of it all coming to an abrupt yet drawn-out end at the hands of an unforeseen aggressor had paralyzed her further than before, despair welling up within her SOUL.

But before she could let this despair swallow her up completely, before Flowey could snatch her up once more and continue his abuse, she heard a loud, grotesque shriek. It echoed and bounced along the walls of the cave long after the actual scream had ended, sounding more horrendous than anything Frisk could recall ever having heard before in her life. Frisk couldn’t turn around to see just who had screamed, but she didn’t need to – it wasn’t necessary.

It was Flowey, and it sounded as though he were being put through as much pain and agony as she had been forced to endure.

She then heard another voice.

“i told you before - if i _ever_ caught you here again, weed, you’d be in for a **bad time**.”

It was deep, dark, and _dangerous_ ; unlike anything she had ever heard before. Not even the raging waters of the ocean during a storm or the tempestuous winds of a cyclone could hold a candle to the pure unbridled _fury_ she could sense lying beneath his tone, which was struggling to seem casual and relaxed but instead sounded perfervidly strained.

“the fact that you’re here must mean you were ready for what was going to happen. you only have yourself to blame for this.”

Frisk braced herself for another hideous scream from Flowey; she would have covered her ears in preparation, if only she could move her arms – she was certain that they were now _both_ rendered immovable.

“Ah, ah, ah, trash bag.” Flowey tutted, but his labored breathing indicated that speaking was an incredibly strenuous task for him at the moment. “Aren’t you worried about the safety of the human…? Start a fight with me and there’s no telling what’ll happen! And you… you can’t _kill_ me. You don’t have the _guts_ for it, haha! It’s against your nature…”

Flowey was right – fighting and killing was against his nature, and he wasn’t certain if he could ever bring himself to terminate someone even as vile to the core as Flowey, even if it was for the sake of another.

And he was also correct in stating his prioritized interest in the wellbeing of the human; he cared far more about seeing that she was taken care of and her injuries tended to than settling a score with this loathsome creature without a soul that preyed on the naïveté of the fallen.

“……leave. _**now**_.”

“I was about to anyway, even if you hadn’t come along.” He sneered. “Toys aren’t any fun to play with when they’re broken, and this one’s _juuuust_ about fallen apart. If you’d come just one minute later…”

This other person seemed to be ignoring Flowey’s commentary, or at the very least was trying to. Frisk felt herself being turned over so she was no longer lying face down, and the first thing that came into her immediate vision was Flowey lingering a short distance away; a pointed bone was stabbed through the middle of his stem like a skewer, and a thin translucent green liquid, chlorophyll she surmised, oozed out of the gaping wound it had created.

But the second thing she became conscious of was, the person now holding her was a skeleton. He was staring down at her with pitch black eye sockets and a wide unsettling grin, and the little amount of light that fluttered down from the surface above the two only enhanced the ominousness of his features in her eyes.

She let out an alarmed cry and instantly began twisting and turning as much as her weakened body would allow to escape his hold, which he struggled to maintain.

“ _ **Hahahaha!**_ Look at her! She’s horrified by you!” Flowey cawed as he began his retreat, his vines and stem slowly sinking into the earth. “You fool… Humans will _always_ despise monsters. You remember that when you’re at the mercy of this one and it has none to spare…”

The robed skeleton payed him no mind, his focus centering on convincing the human girl in front of him that he meant her no harm. But Flowey had already left a ghastly first impression on Frisk that wouldn’t be easily reversed; she had seen his hostile behavior as a preview for what the rest of the inhabitants of the Underground must be like, and the nasty little buttercup had only damaged this view further with the use of the word ‘monster’, the robed skeleton deduced.

Still, he refused to give up and abandon her, even if she insisted upon it.

“No… _No!_ **Get away from me!** ” She shrunk away from him, beginning to sob hysterically. “Just leave me alone! _**Please!**_ ”

“human, i need you to listen – i know you’re scared and in a lot of pain, but i’m just trying to help yo-”

“I’ve had enough ‘ _help_ ’! Just go back to wherever it was you came from! Please… Please don’t hurt me…”

He inhaled sharply through his nasal cavity. He ceased any and all efforts in explaining himself or his actions. Any attempts at clarification would only be wasting precious time at this rate – if he didn’t act soon, then her condition would only worsen.

He retrieved a vial from a well concealed pocket in his robe, the liquid inside being a reddish-brown color in the light. Removing the cork, he then tilted it towards her mouth, tapping the lid against her lips and silently urging her to drink from it.

She resisted him, fighting through the pain of using both broken arms to push and smack against his chest in protest. The repeated pounding of her fists at his ribcage did little but illicit a short, stilted grunt from him, unperturbed entirely by the onslaught. When she continued to struggle despite his attempts at remaining pleasant and civil, his patience with her began to thin.

“ **h u m a n**.” His voice abruptly deepened further to a stern growl, causing her to immediately still.

Frisk let out a surprised, uncontrollable whimper, her mouth opening just slightly as she did so. He took this opportunity to slip the vialed liquid past her lips, then swiftly tipped her head backwards so she swallowed it.

The effect was almost immediate. Her eyelids began to droop and every sensation in her body began to fade. The only thing that was left remaining was the fear she felt towards the robed skeleton. He lifted her up into his arms, gently and without a word, then began walking to somewhere further in the cavern.

“That vial… was that poison…?” Frisk was struggling to remain conscious. “…Am I dying?”

“no, pumpkin. you’re not dying.” He cooed softly, leaning down to nuzzle the top of her head. “if anything, i’m trying to keep that from happening.”

She grew quiet and still, and for a moment he thought that she must have succumbed to what was in the vial he had given her. But a minute later, he heard her weakly question,

“Where… where are you taking me?”

Her voice sounded so small, so scared…

“somewhere safe, where i can take care of you. get you the help you need.” He felt her flinch at the word ‘help’.

That awful, _wretched_ flower…

“Please don’t hurt me…” She shuddered in his arms.

“i won’t.” He asserted, his voice low.

“Promise me you won’t.” She said with such desperation that it made his SOUL ache with fierce pangs of pity for her current condition.

He hesitated.

But only for a second before he solemnly replied, “i promise.”

His oath sounded so sincere.

“now get some sleep, human. i know you’ve gotta be tired.” The skeleton cradled her closer to his sturdy build with large, strong arms in a manner that Frisk would almost consider to be protective.

Frisk wanted to take his words at face value, to earnestly believe that he held no ill will towards her - but if he did indeed intend to harm her, then there was little she could do about it now.

Her heavy eyelids shut, and she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Frisk finally awoke, she once again was unaware of how much time had passed since blacking out, but she did know that her body felt immeasurably heavy – almost certainly an aftereffect of whatever was in that liquid the skeleton had fed her. She could barely even lift her head, the properties of that concoction were so strong. She was every bit as immobile as when she first fell into the cavern, the only difference being that thankfully, Frisk wasn’t in any pain.

Her limbs were wrapped up in bandages, she discovered, when she finally accomplished the simple task of turning her head to the side. They seemed professional, as expertly done as the work from any doctor found in a hospital. Oddly, her dressings were tied together with little white bows in several places – there was no practical or particular cause for her caretaker to have arrayed them this way, if only to amuse her when she awoke.

Frisk spent the next few minutes taking in her new surroundings; she was laying on a soft, cushy single bed that was coincidentally just her size, not too big or too small for her height. The sheets were crisp and clean, and atop them was a quilt that appeared to be hand-knitted, with white and light blue hearts and bones scattered across the fabric’s design displayed in an elaborate pattern. She didn’t know much about knitting, but it must have taken a great amount of patience and skill from its weaver to have created such an ornate duvet. Every stitch that went into the needlework was without flaw; precise in its arrangement and absolutely beautiful.

Laying next to her was… a stuffed animal, of some sort. Frisk wouldn’t be sure how to recount the thing’s appearance if someone asked her to. Its body was vaguely humanoid and without color, a pale white, but that was as far as she could get in her mental description of the toy. Those big black button eyes bore into her relentlessly, and even though it appeared to be just a child’s plaything in every single way, she couldn’t deny that its constant gaze unnerved her just slightly. Once again, there was no other conceivable reason why it would be present at her bedside other than to bring her some comfort or cheer.

To the left and on the floor was a toy chest a short distance away, as well as a cabinet for clothes. That was as much as Frisk could make out of the rest of the room – there was a lamp in the corner of the room, but it had been turned off out of concern of it disturbing her sleep had it been left on. The remainder of the room was plunged into darkness, but Frisk did catch a small sliver of light slipping through the door, which was opened just a crack.

Just as she turned her attention towards it, the door began to slowly creak open and the golden light outside from the hallway flooded into the small room. A skull then popped into her view, belonging to the skeleton that had carried her off earlier. His white eyelights were focused on her bedridden form, seeming concerned, or perhaps that was a trick from the combination of light and shadow playing with her eyes?

But as he stepped towards her, there was something about him that did make the skeleton seem far less sinister to her compared to before. Maybe it was the small surprised gasp that fell from his mouth, or the way his eye sockets widened and the white spheres within them shrunk, or even how the grin on his face slipped as a faint blue blush spread over his cheekbones when he saw Frisk’s head suddenly turn to face his direction.

The two stared at each other in silence for several moments before he managed to find his voice.

“i… thought you were still asleep.” He tugged nervously at the ends of his sleeves. “…how long have you been awake for?”

“Not long. Just a few minutes, I think.” Frisk answered cautiously, still wary of him and his intentions. “…How long have I been asleep?”

“about twenty-four hours? i think?” His phalanges scratched at the back of his skull. “i didn’t really pay any attention to the clock when i got back. i was too preoccupied with getting you to bed and seeing that your broken limbs were wrapped up to think about the passage of time.”

“If I slept for that long, then why do I still feel tired?” She questioned irritably. He laughed at her sour expression.

“that’s all thanks to the medicine i gave you earlier. it does what its supposed to well, but the stuff will really leave you out of commission if you aren’t already. that’s why i save it for emergencies like yours.”

“That stuff in the vial was medicine?” The girl pondered aloud – it hadn’t tasted like medicine. Thinking back on it, the liquid had tasted rather pleasant…

“yeah, but it was also tea. chamomile and honey, actually. i blended the two together and made the medicine practically flavorless on the tongue so it’d be easier on the person that had to drink it. why would anybody want to swallow something that tastes bad? even adults don’t wanna do that, am i right?”

Yet again, another allegedly kindhearted gesture that served no other viable purpose unless the purpose was kindheartedness in itself.

Frisk frowned, studying the lumbering skeleton closely. “…Why?”

“why what…?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression showing blatant confusion.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“because you needed to get those broken limbs of yours wrapped up, and this was the only place i could take you to do that safely-”

“No, I mean… why help me at all? Aren’t you a **monster**?”

He recoiled at her harshened tone and averted his gaze, smiling sheepishly at nothing in particular. “yeah… i can understand why you’d have some doubts about me. in your human fairytales and legends, monsters are the bad guys. they do horrible, unspeakable things to men, women, and children alike without remorse. …but i’m not that kind of monster. i… i want to help and protect any humans that fall into the underground that i come across. that’s why i’m here.”

Frisk bit her bottom lip. Guilt began to bubble away in her stomach and gradually rose up to her chest, her heart giving a dull aching thump at his appearance – yes, he was still smiling, but it was incredibly strained, undeniably forced. His shoulders were slumped heavily as well. Her insensitive remark had definitely hurt him.

“I… I’m sorry. A lot has happened, and I’m still very, very confused. About a lot of things.” She made an effort to explain, his large droopy eye sockets and enlarged white pupils appearing less and less menacing to her and increasingly more melancholy as the seconds ticked by. “But that still isn’t an excuse for treating someone badly for something that’s beyond their control; their race, what they are. Especially when they’re just trying their best to help someone that’s hurt. It’s just… I thought for sure that you were going to…”

“no, no, i… i understand completely. i get it; why you’d react this way.” Even now, he, the offended, was speaking out in defense of her actions. “if you weren’t at least a little bit suspicious of me after what happened back there, then i’d be more concerned than i am already. but… maybe i could clear up some of that confusion, if you’d let me? i’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions right now that need some answering.”

“I would like that very much.” She replied, having come to the quiet conclusion that if he held any interest in bringing harm to her, then he likely would have done so while she was unconscious.

…Unless he wanted her awake whenever the robed skeleton chose to unveil and carry out his diabolical plot - for the sole purpose of the cruel thrill that came from it. After all, following her falling into the underground, she didn’t know how long that deceivingly friendly talking flower had been there either. Right next to her unconscious body. Staring at her in silence. Just waiting for her to wake up…

Frisk decided she would at least allow the skeleton the opportunity to explain himself and answer her questions, but he still hasn’t earned her trust.

Not yet.

The stranger walked over towards and reached into the darkness of the lower left corner of the area and pulled out a chair, a chair that curiously seemed to have been built just right for her size, then dragged it to the center of the room and a few feet away from the bed. He eased into it carefully, perhaps out of concern for its thin legs possibly breaking underneath the weight of his heavyset build; the skeleton looked like a giant while seated in the much too tiny and undoubtedly uncomfortable wooden chair. He then folded his hands across his lap and flashed her a sheepish grin.

He was making an honest attempt to seem relaxed, but his blatant nervous ticks; the occasional twitch perceptible at the corner of his mouth, slightly shrunken and quivering eye lights in his sockets, and him idly drumming his phalanges against his patella with a sort of skittishness that was difficult to describe wordlessly broke any charade of calmness that he may have been trying to convey.

Just what reason would he have to be nervous in this situation? She was the one currently incapacitated, bed-ridden, and completely at the mercy of another. There was nothing she could do to him under these circumstances, even if her life depended on it.

Frisk chose to ignore his tense state for the time being.

“well, uh…” He twiddled the tips of his phalanges against each other, and for some reason, he was refusing to look at her in the face. “this is… kinda the part where you start asking questions…”

“Alright… Telling me where I am right now might be a good place to start.”

“you’re at my house. and this is the… guest bedroom.” His voice sounded oddly pained when he uttered those last few words, but he quickly continued onward before his discomfort became too apparent. “if you want me to be more specific, you’re in the ruins. not all that far from where you fell down. this part of the underground isn’t that spacious, at least, not compared to the rest.”

From that snippet of conversation alone, Frisk was already made aware that the cavern stretched on much further than she initially thought, and that there was something more to this room than he was telling her. Those were details she could ponder later. Back to pressing the skeleton for more information.

“You’re a monster, right? So is the rest of this cavern filled with monsters too? Are they all skeletons like you?”

He actually laughed. It was a low, breathy chuckle. “in order: yes, for the third time, i am a monster. yes, there are other monsters besides me living down here. and no, the whole cavern isn’t occupied entirely by skeletons. there’s slime monsters, fire elemental monsters, spider monsters... and some that can’t even be classified. the word ‘monster’ is more like an umbrella term, i think - there’s a whole lot of variety in our race.”

“Okay… Next line of business. Who are you? What’s your name? Or do you even have one?”

He chuckled again, his shoulders bouncing up and down just slightly. “no, i have a name. it’s sans. sans the skeleton. but you probably already knew that last part. …why did you wanna know?”

Rather than answer his own question, she responded with, “So, your name _isn’t_ ‘smiley trashbag’?”

“no. it’s not now, and it never was.” His tone flattened, as well as the usually ever-present grin on his face.

“Well, I thought I might as well ask...” Frisk mumbled. “Flowey the flower isn’t a really creative name, either... I wondered if the only other living being I’ve come across since I fell down here was a victim of unfortunate naming too.”

“no, that was just him being awful. as per usual.” Sans crossed his arms with a sigh and a soft scowl adorning his features. “nothing too out of the ordinary there...”

_...Nothing out of the ordinary?_

“Another question; would you mind telling me what was up with that flower monster in the first place?”

“ _tibia_ honest with ya... i don’t really know all that much about him myself.” He scratched the back of his skull with another self-conscious grin when she showed no visible reaction to his pun. “right, right... probably not the best time for jokes. anyway, that flower, he isn’t a monster; that’s as much as i know about him. he just... showed up one day in the ruins. he started bullying monsters, making threats, eating all the candy out of the candy bowl... and generally just making a complete nuisance of himself every time he showed up.”

“He seemed like much more than a nuisance when it was me he was around...” Frisk recalled, the torturous sensation of being slung against the floor and wall of the cave in rapid succession still fresh in her mind and limbs, despite the numbing medicine she had been given – she suspected it was beginning to wear off now, but she couldn’t let her boney caretaker become conscious of this.

If he knew she was in pain, he might send her to sleep again. And Frisk felt she couldn’t rest until all her present questions have been answered.

“he didn’t stay just an annoying weed for long. after a while of being content with tormenting others, one day, he started trying to kill monsters. i was on my way back from checking for any fallen humans, like i do every day, when i caught him cornering a whimsun. whimsuns, they’re small, winged, fairy-like monsters. incredibly shy, and they never bother anybody because they’re afraid of being engaged in conflict. so even without knowing what kind of person he was already, i would have known right there that the attack was entirely unprovoked. that was... quite a while ago, when that happened, and i thought what i said to him then was enough to scare him out of the ruins for good.”

If even a fraction of the anger in Sans’s voice had been present at that time compared to when he came to rescue her earlier, then Frisk wasn’t certain how Flowey hadn’t spontaneously wilted right then and there during either confrontation. He was either incredibly determined, or incredibly stupid to have come back again after that warning.

“...but i couldn’t have been more wrong.” Sans appeared shamefaced, silently acknowledging that it was only by mere coincidence and sheer luck that he’d arrived in time to save her at all. “i guess he was just hiding this whole time, and biding his own time, waiting for when a human finally showed up...”

“...Are humans supposed to be the enemies of monsters here, like you’re supposed to be for us on the surface?” She inquired a touch fearfully, still unsure of what intentions this skeleton may hold for her. “In this world, in the Underground, is it really kill or be killed?”

“no. no, no, no, no... **no**.” He spoke quickly, his hands fluttering about anxiously, but the firm tone he spoke with didn’t match his frantic movements. “don’t let that insignificant weed be put in the position of the mouthpiece for the rest of the underground. what he wants is senseless violence, to see the world around him burn. i’d like you to forget as much as you can about him and anything he may have said to you, if at all possible.”

“Being nearly mauled to death by a talking flower that first was pretending to help you is kind of a hard thing to push out of your memory entirely.”

“i know... and i’m sorry. i should’ve got there sooner. then maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as it is now.” He stood up and was suddenly at her side in one fluid motion; he gently rested one hand on her broken and bandaged leg, the contact and sudden unexpected pressure against her injuries causing her entire body to flinch.

He immediately removed his hand – at first, Sans thought that she just didn’t want him touching her, but the way her eyes clenched shut and her lips twisted into a grimace made him think differently.

“...did-did that hurt? are you in pain right now?” When she wouldn’t answer, he gave her leg another experimental brush, the tips of his phalanges featherlight against her wounds as if to soothe them.

As cautious as he was with his ministrations, even the slightest of touches was enough to make her cringe.

“...and so i see the medicine i gave you has worn off.” He gazed at her sternly, his tone scolding. “and just how long were you planning on keeping this from me?”

“For as long as I could.” She answered without any hesitation or shame.

At hearing her bold and defiant response, he frowned in that way that managed to somehow tug at her heartstrings for the second instance without fail.

“you still don’t trust me, do you...?”

“No.” She didn’t know why admitting this to his face hurt as much as it did. “I don’t.”

To her surprise, he didn’t appear frustrated or angry. He breathed a heavy sigh, though, and smiled wearily at her.

“i guess i’ll just have to earn it, then. prove my word’s worth. gradually.”

“G-Gradually?” That last word brought to her a sudden and harsh realization, a question that must be asked, and she did so with a sense of urgency. “How... how long will it be until my limbs have healed?”

“even with my magic helping the healing process along, it’s gonna be a while until you’re back on your feet. the damage you sustained from your fall into the underground must have been bad enough, but that awful weed did a real number on ya. if i were to estimate, i’d say it’ll probably be anywhere from two months at the least to three and a half at the most until you’ve made a complete recovery.”

“Three... and a half months...” She repeated brokenly, the full extent of his diagnosis not having sunk in quite just yet.

She didn’t even notice his mentioning of the term ‘magic’, she was so distressed.

“so that’ll give us plenty of time to get to know one another.” He chuckled mirthfully, before his grin turned tight. “...surely you won’t still hate me three months from now, will you...?”

“I don’t hate you! I’m just... scared. And I’m _still_ so _confused_...”

“over what...?”

“Several more things. Too many to count, and too many issues to cover in a single conversation, probably.”

“no, that wasn’t what i... i already knew that much; it’s obvious you would still have plenty of questions left in need of answering, but that will have to wait until later. what i was referring to was what you said _before_ that... what is it that you’re scared of?”

“...I can’t really explain it.” 

That was all Frisk could reply with after a lengthy pause.

“...is it me? if it is, it’s... alright. i understand. completely.”

“I didn’t say that.” She insisted halfheartedly.

“you didn’t have to.”

It was written all over her face, expressed in her movements, heard within the inflections of her voice...

He walked towards the door, not even turning around as he said,

“...wait right here. i have to get your medicine.”

 _“As if I could go anywhere else...”_ She frowned to herself, but acknowledged that his words had sounded incredibly strained, as though he thought if the girl did have the choice available to her, she would have bolted for the nearest exit as soon as his back was turned.

Frisk couldn’t deny that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, of escaping this house, if only her broken body would allow her to do so. But so far, it appeared Sans the skeleton had done everything within his power to help her and absolutely nothing to warrant her distrust.

But then again, the same could be said of Flowey, who had appeared amiable and offered what was supposed to have been some kindhearted assistance to a helpless and wounded surface dweller, only to purposefully injure her further.

It was true that every indication had been made that the two couldn’t stand one another, but that didn’t have to mean that Sans was her friend; no matter how the saying went about what the enemy of your enemy was to you. He could hold the very same animosity towards humans that Flowey fostered, and Frisk felt it was safest to keep her guard up, search for any signs of existing hostility, detect even the slightest traces of deceit that could be hiding behind that seemingly friendly smile...

Sans, however, was inwardly distraught.

He was thankful that an opportunity had presented itself for him to excuse himself from the presence of the human girl in his company. He couldn’t withstand it a second longer, being subjected to her harsh judging gaze.

This wasn’t his first time caring for a human, particularly a stubborn one. Some of them had accepted his help and embraced him with open arms, overjoyed to find a friendly face. Others needed some coaxing, some convincing that he wasn’t going to hurt them, and it wasn’t long at all until they believed his claims and found them to be true.

But _they_ had all been _children_.

This was an adult human, a woman with perpetual scorn in her gaze despite his best efforts. And he didn’t know how to handle that.

_“none of them ever **hated** me before...”_

He returned a few minutes later, carefully carrying a tea cup in hand with wisps of steam wafting from its rim. It was made of creamy white porcelain, which was crafted into the shape of an oversimplified skull. Even the artistry of the handle abided to the skeleton theme present, looking as though it were made from a trio of assembled milky colored bones.

Frisk sat up in the bed, wincing as she did so. Yes, the medicine she ingested yesterday had most definitely worn off, but she was also delighted to discover that her limbs had in fact unexpectedly, almost unbelievably regained some of their former mobility.

Even so, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to taking more, though it would numb the pain burdening her and Sans had mentioned that it didn’t taste bitter when mixed in with the tea. The flavor wasn’t her concern, however. Waking up after swallowing whatever was in that concoction had left her feeling as though she had been hit by a truck. Her entire body had felt heavy as lead, as if some unseen pressure were weighing her down.

Somehow sensing Frisk’s apprehension and correctly deducing the cause, he spoke,

“this isn’t the same medicine as before. it’ll make you sleepy in a little while and you’ll probably need a nap after, but it won’t knock you out for hours.”

That was... somewhat reassuring, she thought.

If he was telling the truth, that is.

Instead of handing her the cup or forcing it into her hands, Sans set it on the nightstand Frisk had just noticed was there, most likely because she couldn’t move her head towards that angle earlier. The cup would be out of sight should she lay down again, just like the piece of furniture it rested atop, but it would still easily be within her reach should her hands search for it.

“...do you want to eat now or later?”

“later.” She answered, both out of wariness and a genuine lack of appetite.

“ok.”

Several moments passed with not another word from either of them. Sans was still there, he hadn’t made a single move that suggested he was going to leave, but he wasn’t looking at her like he was earlier, or even at all.

He wouldn’t look at her.

Frisk eventually decided to break the silence herself.

“Don’t you want me to drink it?”

“yes, i do. but i’m not going to force you.”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

“that was an emergency.” He was swift in delivering his rebuttal. “whether you were aware of it or not, you were dying back there. i had to get you somewhere else quick so i could take care of you, and i couldn’t let you suffer for no reason the entire way when there was a safe and ready alternative available. so i’m sorry i fed you something strange to knock you unconscious and brought you here against your will, but if i had to do it over again, i’d still make the same choice. over and over again, without hesitation.”

He was speaking to her in a serious, stern, nearly scolding tone, but something about the manner in which he spoke managed to prick at her heartstrings, almost as effectively as when the skeleton had expressed his vulnerability earlier. Even while cross, there was a caring, almost loving impression discernible underneath.

Slowly, and with some amount of delay, Frisk took the tea cup off the night stand and brought the warm liquid to her lips, sipping it quietly.

Just as Sans had said earlier, the tea disguised the taste of the medicine. In fact, she couldn’t detect it at all on her taste buds.

“...It’s good.” Frisk muttered at last.

“i’m glad.” Her drinking the tea made the corners of his mouth quirk upwards, but the expression soon vanished as quickly as it had come. “...i get that you aren’t too keen on the idea of putting any of your trust in me, what with flowey abusing it and all... but i really do want to help you. and i can’t do that if you won’t let me.”

“...Sans, can you come closer?”

He complied, albeit confusedly, blatant bewilderment written across his features as he made his approach. Frisk didn’t say anything else until the skeleton was positioned exactly where she wanted him to be, continuing to motion him forward until he was standing directly in front of her bedside.

“Now what I need you to do is look me in the eyes - not at the floor, the wall, your hands, or anything else you’ve been staring at that isn’t me.”

“a-alright...” He stuttered unsurely, wondering why she had become so commanding so suddenly and what it was she was going to ask of him next. “i’m looking at you. just you and only you.”

“One last thing, Sans. ...I need you to tell me, no, _promise_ me that you’re not planning to do anything sinister or rotten to me like Flowey was. I need you to give me your word right here and now. And depending on how you do that, how you respond to this demand of mine, you just might earn my trust.”

He frowned down at her, and she could tell that he wasn’t exactly happy with being compared to and lumped in with the likes of Flowey, who so far seemed to be more or less his arch nemesis.

However, Sans maintained eye contact with her, as she had requested, and took a breath,

“i don’t have anything awful in store for you – all i want is to see that you get better and are well taken care of, regardless of the fact that we’re of different races that are usually perceived to be deeply prejudiced against one another and are all but demanded rather than advised to remain bitter enemies. that’s it. honest. i swear on my SOUL, if that means anything to you.”

He had hesitated just a moment before answering, just like when Frisk had asked him to make a promise before - something that shouldn’t have boded well for him with her currently playing the role of his judge.

But the sincerity she found in his voice, the sheer conviction with which he stated his intentions, the sparks of gentle warmth she saw within the lights of his sockets... _that_ was enough to sway her thoughts and opinions on this monster.

They gazed into each other’s eyes for the longest of times, neither having moved a muscle or a joint since his declaration. Sans was obviously anxious; beads of sweat decorated his skull, and the grin he wore was incredibly forced in a feeble attempt to mask his dread and unease.

Finally, Frisk was prepared to announce the results of her assessment.

“...You pass.”

“...what?” He inquired, breathlessly.

“You pass.” She repeated plainly. “I’ve decided that I’m going to trust you. You’ve managed to convince me. From this point onward, I’ll go along with your suggestions and your efforts in helping me to heal.”

Although, to him, she sounded mostly _unimpressed_ with his heartfelt response... But Sans wasn’t so skeptical that he was about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He exhaled, patent relief blossoming over his skull. “thank you... i... i promise i won’t do anything to have this honor that was bestowed on me revoked.”

“But if you do, you’re gonna be wishing that Flowey had succeeded in killing me.” She retorted, half-jokingly and halfway serious.

“never.” Came his swift reply in that chiding yet close to loving tone.

Whether Sans meant that he was never going to betray her trust now that he had it or that he wasn’t even going to entertain the notion of the alternate outcome where Flowey killed her, she wasn’t sure.

But what she was made aware of was, Sans had a nice smile. This one was genuine; unlike the others he had previously displayed with tight grins that didn’t reach his eye sockets. It was sincere, welcoming. Perhaps even sweet.

And seeing him like this, it made the corners of her own mouth curve upwards.

Frisk took the tea from where it rested on the nightstand again, intending to drink every drop of it. Her grip wasn’t steady however, and she nearly spilled the entirety of its contents on herself and the bedsheets. Seeing her struggle, Sans kneeled by the bed and curled his phalanges around the cup and consequently her own hands, his large palms engulfing them. He gently eased the tea cup towards her lips.

She felt heat surrounding the skin of her hands like a warm, comforting blanket, and Frisk believed it wasn’t emanating solely from the beverage she held. How could a skeleton, a being without blood, feel warm?

The texture of his bones wasn’t how she thought it would be either; they felt smooth to the touch, as expected, but weren’t entirely rigid. There was some suppleness to them. How could a skeleton be _soft_?

But he was. Sans was warm and soft; something Frisk likely never would have learned, paid attention to, or cared for at all if she still harbored the same mistrust towards him as she had earlier.

His low hesitant voice next to her ear caught her notice. “is this okay...? i’m not making you uncomfortable?”

“No, not at all.” She answered with a chuckle, internally somewhat taken aback by her own reply and the instantaneousness of it.

He was only assisting her with holding the cup so it didn’t spill, Frisk tried to reason with herself, but still she continued her mental debate with herself; wasn’t what they were doing now a bit too much of a jump compared to before, a bit too _cuddly_ , considering this was the same skeleton monster who she had only began to place _some_ amount of her trust in no more than five minutes ago?

Even if this was so, she found herself enjoying this unexpected warmth, this sweet and sincere gesture. So much so, Frisk could practically feel the lingering disbelief that remained slowly melting away around her like snow that desperately clung to one’s clothes while in front of a crackling fireplace.

Sans kept his hands wrapped around hers until the cup was completely empty. He then plucked it from her grasp and set it back on the nightstand before turning around again to face her.

“you’ve got about an hour, give or take, until the medicine kicks in. that should be enough time to eat something if you’re hungry, unless you really do have no appetite.” When she nodded at the end of his statement, he frowned at her in that distraught way that inexplicably pulled at her heartstrings. “but it’s been a day, a whole twenty-four hours since I found you. even if you ate a big meal directly before falling down here, that’s still a long time to go without putting any food in your body.”

“You’re awfully insistent about getting me to eat something.” She stated, raising an eyebrow just slightly then continued in a clearly joking manner, “...You’re aren’t trying to fatten me up, are you, Sans?”

He threw back his head and laughed, barely stifling a snort as he replied, “noooo, i’m just worried about your health is all.” Sans took her response as a sign to proceed, moving towards the door and preparing to go to the kitchen to make something; something that wouldn’t consume too much time and would be light enough on her stomach that it shouldn’t upset her if she truly didn’t have much of an appetite. But not before poking his head back into the room immediately after he left it to cheekily add, “...even if you are cute enough to eat.”

It was just him teasing her in the same manner as she had seconds prior, she told herself, but still Frisk blushed at the boldness of his words that one could misread as being flirtatious in nature. ...Surely it wasn’t. Just some silly banter between new pals; that’s what it was, right?

She shook this thought away, as one she deemed more important entered her mind. She narrowly suppressed the excitement in her voice as she called out to him,

“Sans!”

Almost instantly, she heard the approaching sound of his slipper-clad feet thundering against the floor of the hallway outside. The door then swung open and there he stood, demanding to know what was wrong with worry gracing his skull.

It vanished at once after her next sentence, his concerned expression being replaced with one of immeasurable joy.

“My name isn’t ‘you’, Sans. It’s Frisk.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever remained of Frisk’s suspicions towards Sans, they completely dissipated by her fourth day under his care.

Even throughout the first day, after the robed skeleton returned to her room with a steaming hot bowl of stew in hand and insistences that he feed her so as not to further aggravate the injuries of her arms, Frisk found it exceedingly difficult to continue regarding him with doubt.

He was astonishingly, profoundly considerate, she concluded.

Having to be fed by him was embarrassing, even if he had stated that there was no reason for her to feel this way when she voiced her sentiments aloud. He was more than happy to do so since she couldn’t. Perhaps he was simply the type that enjoyed caring for and doting on others, Frisk mused.

Whenever she wasn’t asleep, Sans was almost constantly at her bedside; at her every beck and call. The girl couldn’t recall having ever received such attentiveness before in her entire life, not even from her mother and father. It made her feel a twinge of guilt to place this monster, who was more or less a stranger to her though an incredibly kindhearted one on a higher pedestal than her own parents, but Frisk couldn’t deny that during their so far brief period of knowing one another, Sans has possibly shown more consideration towards her than anyone aboveground ever had.

Something else that Frisk had learned during her stay is that, when Sans claimed he would provide answers to all her inquiries, he had really meant it.

Every single question that fell from her lips, no matter how abrupt or bizarre it may have been, the skeleton would never fail to supply her with an answer or an explanation. He never seemed to tire of responding to her endless plethora of questions, strangely; in fact, Sans appeared to find some amount of delight in her never-ending curiosity. Frisk had always been someone who possessed a boundless thirst for knowledge, eternally seeking clarifications in subjects others cared little for, and taking intrigue in forming and uncovering solutions to mysteries that most preferred to remain unknown.

“Hey, Sans? Why is it that you’re a skeleton, but you’re able to eat? I didn’t think skeletons would need to, or even could eat. Shouldn’t it pass directly through you? Where does it all go?” She had asked one evening when Sans had decided to join her for supper, even after Frisk’s hands had healed enough that him assisting her was no longer necessary – ‘so she wouldn’t be alone’, he had stated somewhat shyly.

“magic.” Came his simple reply, accompanied by a grin and a wink.

“Well _fine!_ All right, then! _Keep_ your _secrets_...”

“no, i was being entirely literal. magic really _is_ how and why i eat.” He chuckled at what must have been her disbelieving stare. “the bodies of monsters are made of magic, condensed into a solid form. the food down here is made from our concentrated magic, so anything we eat is absorbed directly by our bodies, and the same goes for any humans that consume monster food. ...that’s why the majority of us down here don’t have toilets.”

“...That explains _so much_.” So that’s why she hadn’t felt the need to use the restroom since her untimely arrival here... And from there, Frisk’s mind then drifted to the thought of whether skeletons could also gain weight if they could eat. “And yet, I feel this also opens up an entirely new area of discussion that demands to be explored.”

“i’ll tell you just about anything you want to know about monsters and the underground, but... from where this conversation seems to be headed, is this really a topic that you wanna discuss over dinner?”

“What? No, noooo - that wasn’t what I was thinking of talking about at all. You were the one that brought up toilets in the first place, so who’s the gross one here?” She laughed freely, the sound causing shivers of delight to run down his spine.

“if that wasn’t it, then what were you wanting to talk about?”

“About you.” Frisk answered with just a hint of bashful hesitance, resulting in his SOUL skipping a beat.

“what... what _about_ me...?” Sans nearly croaked as he pointed to himself, his throat suddenly going dry.

“Anything and everything you’re willing to share.” She confessed, not quite looking him in the eye socket. “I think you’re really interesting Sans, and I... I want to know more about you. I feel like I could spend years questioning you, all day every day, and I would still never get bored of what you have to say.”

He must have gaped at her for a good solid minute at the very least, concerning her slightly and making her wonder if she had said something alarming or offensive.

But then a beautiful grin graced his skull and he shakily replied,

“ha... ahaha...... _hoo boy_.” He rubbed the back of his head with a nervous chuckle, unable to look at her while aware that his zygomas were flushed and glowing a bright, near blinding blue. “i... i can’t say anyone’s ever said anything like that to me before... uh, you... you said you’ve still got questions, wasn’t that right, frisk? keep ‘em rollin’.”

Sans was different – he entertained her inquisitiveness, encouraged it. She would even go so far as to say he almost appeared _flattered_ by it instead of finding her and her various interests annoying.

Frisk wondered if he was lonely.

That was the only conceivable reason why he would tolerate her oddities as much as he had, she thought.

After Frisk decided that he had earned her trust and that she enjoyed his company, she began to notice the little things about him. How, even when he was smiling brightly, there was something sad about those pale white spheres of light within his sockets. Beneath them were dark circles present, like how humans would develop dark circles under their eyes due to stress or loss of sleep.

She had commented at least once that he appeared to be exhausted, not directly mentioning the easily visible marks beneath his sockets, but Sans had brushed her off with a smile. He assured her that he slept plenty, perhaps _too much_ , the skeleton added with a quiet chuckle. Still, it concerned her – the thought of him taking an uncaring approach to his own health when he had put so much effort into bettering hers was a saddening one.

But the longer she stayed in his company, the lighter the markings underneath his sockets became.

It didn’t make much sense to her – if anything, Frisk would have thought that tending to the needs of another as exceedingly as he had for her the past few weeks would have only exhausted him further. Instead, every morning when he came to her room to greet her, Sans seemed just a little bit more perky than the previous day.

Did he really enjoy her presence that much?

As the days passed on, one after the other, the more sure she became that this was the truth.

Another peculiar habit of his was how shy he seemed to be around her. Frisk wasn’t certain if he acted this way around everyone or if she was some sort of exception, since the only person she had seen him interact with so far other than herself was Flowey and as far as she was concerned that nasty little buttercup had no relevance in this private mental discourse of hers - but one day she became confident enough to ask him.

Apparently, the answer was a little of both.

Ever since he was small, Sans has felt somewhat uncomfortable conversing and spending an extended period of time with those he wasn’t familiar with. However, he then stated that Frisk was a special case to him and further affected his shyness. So much so, Sans admitted to the girl that he felt as though he had been dangerously close to fainting himself when speaking to her for the first time; the sole reason why he hadn’t was there had been the more important and pressing task of tending to her injuries to focus on at the moment.

When she questioned him as to why he would feel that way towards her, this was what he had to say,

“you... you’re really pretty.” He professed, a blue blush beginning to creep over his cheeks. “i’ve never met anyone as pretty before, and when i first saw you, that actually scared me just a little. i... i got nervous.”

Sans couldn’t be as shy as he claimed to be if he was willing to admit that to her face, even if he couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look at it as he said that.

But as their time together gradually increased, his timidity gradually began to wane.

He would still mumble and stutter when he spoke to her, but his actions and words became undeniably more bold.

It had all began one late evening while Sans was at her bedside, sitting in that same wooden chair that was much too little for his build as he responded to her vast quantities of questions, as per usual. The tiny chair could support his weight no longer; the legs collapsed underneath him with an oddly thunderous crackling, dumping the skeleton out onto the floor on his back.

Frisk knew she shouldn’t have, but she laughed.

She hadn’t meant to, but it was beyond her impulse control! To begin with, the small uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp that he let out when he was sent tumbling backwards was nothing short of hysterical, but the expression on his face as it happened was something that deserved not to be ignored. His eye sockets had gone impossibly wide and the spheres inside them had shrunken down to tiny pinpricks. But after he crashed against the floor, his eyelights had enlarged to the point they looked like twin moons.

The entire scene was too humorous, or _humerus_ as Sans would call it, to keep her face straight and her mouth shut.

But when Sans didn’t move after longer than a few seconds had passed of him silently staring up at the ceiling just blinking his sockets, that was when the giggles died down and concern began to take over.

Frisk’s body moved on its own accord, rolling out of bed and landing on her feet before limping over to him.

“Sans? Sans! Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?!” She took his face in her hands, practically yelling directly in it. The sheer panic in her voice made him snap out of whatever trance he was in.

“i... i’m fine. i think.” His eyelights still looked a bit wonky to her; they had returned to their normal size, but the white orbs were facing different directions and they were spinning round and around...

He sat up a bit straighter, willing the spheres in his eyes to go back to normal. Only then did she begin to relax, releasing her frightened grip on his skull and arms returning to her sides.

“everything’s fine, frisk; it’ll take just a little more than that to do anything serious to these old bones.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that so I won’t worry, are you?”

“‘m sure.”

She still wasn’t totally convinced he was telling the truth, but she would let him off the hook for now – if he really was hurt, it would be made apparent to her soon enough. 

“I’m so sorry that I laughed...” She apologized as she lowered her gaze, deeply ashamed.

“don’t be.” One phalange found its way under her chin, gently lifting her head up. “it was kind of funny, wasn’t it?”

“If it had been me that fell instead, you wouldn’t have been laughing.” Frisk stated bluntly, knowing that what she said was true.

“frisk, i wasn’t hurt, so it’s fine.” He replied with a tone of finality, then smiled at her. “but it’s nice to know that you _chair_ about me so much.”

Once she had processed the pun, Frisk’s eyes automatically narrowed and her nose wrinkled in mock disgust. He laughed at her petulant expression, and the sound was enough for the disgruntled look on her face to slip just slightly. It vanished entirely when the phalange that had been under her chin shifted, the hand it belonged to reaching up to cup her cheek.

Sans’s own expression had softened as well; a warm smile elevating the corners of his mouth coupled with a tender gaze meant solely for her. His other hand rose to brush the stray and uneven strands of hair away from the girl’s eyes as his thumb traced smooth circles against the skin of her cheek.

Anything she had to say to him prior had died on her lips.

His actions had rendered her entirely speechless.

Sans spent the next few minutes gently running his boney fingers through her hair and stroking her face, appreciating the different types of softness from both. His eye sockets were lidded from sheer bliss, he was enjoying this moment that much.

However, he returned to his senses not too long afterward, his sockets snapping open with a gasp of sudden realization. He immediately removed his hands and scrambled backwards, nearly on all fours, until his back hit the wall.

Frisk stared at him with even more confusion evident than when he had been affectionately pawing at her.

“i... i can explain, i...” Sans stuttered, hands fluttering about as if on the defensive and anticipating her to attack him for his behavior. “no, no i can’t explain anything this time... not at all. oh stars, frisk, i... i’m so sorry. i don’t know what came over me.”

“No, no... It’s... it’s alright! I’m not mad at you, Sans, so there’s no reason at all for you to act like I am.” She shuffled towards him once more, but only made it a few steps across the room before her legs gave out on her – they were still far too weak due to a combination of several consecutive weeks of bedrest and the injuries she sustained when she first fell into the Underground and encountered Flowey.

Sans pushed his previous thought process to the side and moved to assist her. He was at her side in an instant, hoisting Frisk into his arms before she could begin to question him of his objective. He carried her back to the bed, placing her gently underneath the covers then pulling the sheets up to her chest, all the while struggling to aim an admonishing look at his patient.

He was immensely flattered by how quickly she had rose to her feet, for the first time in weeks, just to make certain that he hadn’t injured himself despite the pain she must have felt in doing so. However, as much as this gesture of hers touched the very depths of his SOUL, he also wished that she hadn’t left the bed in the first place. She was still recuperating, and if he hadn’t carelessly broken the chair he had been sitting on, then Frisk wouldn’t have had a reason to exert herself.

Sans had no one to blame but himself for this... and perhaps Flowey. He too was responsible, in a roundabout sort of way, but Sans knew he couldn’t pin every single thing that went wrong during the process of Frisk’s recovery on him, as tempting as the thought was. That was just escaping responsibility.

“What’s with the sour face, Mr. Grumpybones?” She took notice of his bitter expression and was swift in pointing it out.

“i would think the answer to that question is obvious – you got out of bed when i specifically told you just this morning not to.”

“But what was I supposed to do then? Just... lay here and watch you have a staring contest with the ceiling when it was totally possible and reasonable for me to think that you might have split the back of your skull open because you didn’t pop right back up after that fall you took?”

“i was in a minor case of shock from the impact.” Sans struggled to remain firm with her. “i would have gotten up, eventually.”

“Well, even if what you’re saying _is_ true...,” He momentarily scowled at her, but not for long until it too evaporated. “...Eventually just wasn’t good enough for me.”

His mouth opened and closed in rapid succession, but eventually, he just smiled down at her with all the warmth and quiet intensity that had been present before. Again, he carded his phalanges through her bangs, then said quietly, almost inaudibly,

“get some rest, pumpkin.”

He was trying to escape the conversation, Frisk surmised, but her thoughts were cut short when she felt a soft pressure against her forehead. Sans quickly turned off the lamp and shuffled out of the room as if embarrassed, almost ashamed. What reason would he have to be embarrassed? Frisk was fairly certain the lingering sensation she felt on her forehead was from a kiss.

How that could even possible she wasn’t entirely certain, but Frisk had previously witnessed him drinking from a straw on some occasions during their mealtimes together, so perhaps him being capable of kissing wasn’t too much of a stretch. At any rate, Sans had fled the scene before she had the chance to question him about it, and perhaps that was exactly the point.

However, Sans didn’t remain bashful concerning his gestures of affection. The next morning, he greeted Frisk with another hesitant kiss to the cheek, just like the night before, but instead of apologizing and stumbling over his words, his bright eyelights studied her closely, gauging her reaction for any signs of discomfort or disgust. Finding none, he grinned widely, and from there, the adoration he felt and actively expressed towards her only increased.

He gave her kisses sparingly, and gave plenty of warning beforehand from that point onward, just in case... She allowed him at each occasion, even turning her cheek towards him and tapping it with her index finger feigning impatience sometimes when it seemed to her he wanted to press his mouth against her skin, but refrained from it for whatever reason; perhaps it was that timidity of his creeping back every so often to remind him of its existence and to make itself known.

During one instance when he leaned down to give her a peck on the forehead, he hesitated, much longer than usual and too long in her opinion. So to remedy the situation, Frisk leaned upwards slightly... and placed a peck of her own on the tip of his nasal ridge. He leapt backwards as if she had slung cold water on him instead, and yes, during her stay here, Frisk had learned that magical skeleton monsters _could_ be affected by changes in temperatures and experience sensations similar to a human’s nerve endings. His spine was pressed up against the closed door – she wasn’t entirely certain how he had managed to scurry that distance, and in reverse so quickly; Frisk was halfway convinced that he had somehow teleported.

He blinked owlishly at her for several extended, drawn out seconds, then broke out into a wide grin and laughed.

Afterward, Sans gave her a kiss at the beginning and conclusion of each day they spent in one another’s company.

It wasn’t long after until Frisk found the strength to walk again, on the condition that she was under constant supervision as a precaution in case her legs collapsed underneath her again. The first few days, Sans held her hand in a strong but gentle grip, leading the girl around his home wherever it was she wanted to go. He would chide her on pushing her limits, but he could only surmise how liberating it must have felt to be able to move around again and stretch her legs after so long of being confined to a single room, and unable to even leave bed at that.

Her first time leaving the bedroom was almost exciting, to finally see what lied beyond the walls of that child-sized, enclosed room. The hallway outside seemed so wide, and seemed to stretch further than it really did. Aside from the door to Frisk’s room, there were two others visible – one led to Sans’s bedroom, and the other was a mystery. When Sans caught her staring at it and the sign dangling from the doorframe, which politely deterred any would-be trespassers from entering, he led her away and guided her attentions towards the living area. She was still curious about it, but pushed any thoughts pertaining to the prohibited door to the side to ponder later.

Sans’s house was a bit on the small side and simple in design, but also cozy and comforting; the very epitome of a cottage dwelling. The living room was her favorite place to be – often she and Sans would sit and make themselves comfy in that giant armchair of his and read by the fireplace together. There was no danger of this one breaking under their combined weight, he insisted, but Frisk was still cautious about sitting on the arm of the chair, no matter how well-built and sturdy it looked.

When she voiced this concern aloud, he then offered her a place by his side. If she took him up on this suggestion, then she would practically be sitting in his lap. Perhaps not, and while Frisk would admit that she was growing more and more fond of him with each passing day in a certain sense, going so far as allowing him to kiss her face and finding herself often returning the gesture, the girl still couldn’t quite say she was comfortable to _that_ extent with cozying up to Sans.

And yet, Frisk found herself inching closer and closer to him anyway, unconsciously moving more towards his immediate vicinity each time they sat together in that armchair suitable for a king. Not to the degree that she was ever settled in his lap, but she had definitely brushed shoulders with him, even leaned against him a time or two. He welcomed the dwindling proximity between them, occasionally wrapping an arm around her own shoulders if she was enough within his reach to do so.

How this routine of theirs even began was when Frisk had spotted a bookshelf next to the armchair, each row filled with titles unfamiliar to her. They were all authored by the monsters inhabiting the Underground, he informed her, and she then wanted to view their contents for herself. She was astounded to find that the words on the pages inside were written in her language and not one unfamiliar to her, but Sans spoke English as well, so it really shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did.

Some of them were children’s books and fairytales, stories that Sans had owned since he was small – they were in excellent condition for their estimated age, which briefly made her wonder how old Sans actually was. Others were of the nonfictional variety, like biographies containing tales and accounts of humans and monsters having once lived in harmony many, many years ago. She learned this period of peace between the races came to an abrupt end when humanity waged war against the monsters; the humans emerged victorious, rounded up the monster population, and sealed them away in a deep cavern under Mount Ebott behind a magical barrier.

If it weren’t for the fact that Frisk was brutally assaulted by a talking flower and was currently sitting next to a giant living animate skeleton, she wouldn’t have believed it.

“...They didn’t tell us about this in history class at school on the surface.”

“ha! i can believe that. it seems like the vast majority of humanity has forgotten that we even exist, much less ever lived alongside them. now monsters have been relegated to malignant figures in your stories that terrorize children and other innocents...”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how insulting that must be to you.” She frowned, eying him with sympathy in her gaze. “...Are you the only monster that feels this way about humans, wanting to put what happened in the past behind you, or are the rest all like Flowey and think we’re evil?”

He instantly looked discomforted by her question. Sans was visibly squirming in his seat, seeming more nervous than she ever could recall having seen him. He almost appeared _pained_ , he was so unsettled.

But before she could retract her inquiry, apologize, or attempt to comfort him, he at last answered her. “opinions are... _varied_ , among monsterkind.”

“......Oh.” She said quietly, taking as long with her own reply as he had.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

Neither of them would look at one another. Both could only writhe uncomfortably where they sat, both consumed with regret for the things that were said. The warm, domestic mood around them had been spoiled, and Frisk felt it was her fault for bringing up such a serious, not to mention grim topic in the first place.

But now that the topic had surfaced, it made her begin to consider something, and this wasn’t the first time that this particular something had plagued her thoughts before.

From his actions and his behavior towards her, Frisk could deduce that Sans obviously held a great deal of compassion towards humanity. He didn’t have to help her at all when he did, and neither would a human if she were being honest, but especially not him when her own kind had imprisoned his entire race. He had no obligation to assist her and would gain nothing from doing so, nothing that she could think of at any rate, and yet he had without a second thought. Not even for his own safety, as Sans had faced Flowey in order to get to her.

Flowey’s last words of parting to the skeleton had been haunting her lately.

_“You fool… Humans will **always** despise monsters. You remember that when you’re at the mercy of this one and it has none to spare…”_

Was Sans an outcast among the rest of his kind because of his stance towards humans? Is that why he lived alone in this little house, and never brought home any company?

Sans wasn’t entirely without companionship, at least this was what Frisk tried to convince herself of; he seemed to have at least one friend in the spider lady that had taught him how to sew the beautiful blue blanket with the bones stitched in the fabric that currently sat atop her bed, who he mentioned when she had once asked him where it came from. However, Sans had spoken as though that had been some time ago. Perhaps he truly didn’t have anyone else in his life aside from herself.

Dwelling on that thought as she did suddenly made her unbearably sad, feeling as though the blame lied solely on her shoulders that such a wonderful, patient, and kind monster would spend the remainder of his life alone as long as she was here.

So much so, that Frisk wasn’t even aware she was crying until she felt Sans begin to wipe the tears that cascaded down her cheeks with his thumb.

“please... please don’t cry, pumpkin.” She wasn’t sure why, perhaps it was his mournful tone or the just as saddened expression on his face that was rendered slightly blurry through her tearstained vision, but she only wailed all the more, which was the exact opposite of what Sans wanted. He then reached out for her, to envelop her in his arms in a comforting embrace, the history book that he had held loosely in his hands tumbling to the floor, forgotten. “pumpkin, why are you crying...?”

“Sans, am I... not supposed to be here...?” She sniffled, struggling to extricate herself from his gentle grasp, feeling as though she didn’t deserve it or him. “Am I the reason why you’re alone?”

She heard him let out a quiet gasp before holding her even closer to himself, against his chest. In the small space of time prior to him speaking again, she heard something else, a pulsing, thumping sound emanating from somewhere deep within his ribcage. It was almost like a heartbeat... If she wasn’t so wrapped up in her own sorrow, Frisk might have contemplated why she would be hearing something that was so similar to a heartbeat coming from Sans when skeleton monsters shouldn’t have hearts.

“...why would you think something like that?” He was running his phalanges through her hair, barely nuzzling the top of head as he urged her to speak. “why are you blaming yourself for that? why? tell me.”

Frisk didn’t want to mention what Flowey had said, or what was written in the book for that matter. She wasn’t sure why he even bothered asking her, if only to hear her say it in that awful, croaky, hiccup-laden voice of hers - they both knew exactly why. She didn’t want to talk about this at all, even though the two of them having arrived at this point was entirely through her doing.

She couldn’t think of anything to say, so the girl only let out a sob and shook her head, refusing to reply.

He sighed, squeezing her tighter, but not so much that it would be discomforting or painful, then moved his mouth next to her ear, so he could ascertain that what he had to say would be heard.

“frisk, i need you to calm down, pumpkin. i need you to breathe. it’s not your fault. none of this is.” When she weakly attempted to argue, he shushed her, his voice little above a whisper. “yes, it’s true you’re not supposed to be down here, according to the law of monsterkind, but it’s not because of you that i’m alone – that has nothing to do with you. i made my choice a long time ago, long before you ever fell down here. and i have no regrets about that. none at all.”

“But... But it’s not _fair!_ ” She clutched onto his robe and bawled into his shoulder, the cloth becoming damp with her tears, but he didn’t care.

“i know it’s not fair, it’s not fair at all, but that’s just how things are down here, pumpkin. it’s not your fault.”

“Why does it feel like it is, though?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop it; it was probably the only one she has asked him that he didn’t have an answer for.

“i don’t know. but if i’ve said or done anything to make you feel this way, then i’m sorry. i won’t ever do it again.” The smoothness that was his cheek rubbed against her wet one as he again asked of her, his request sounding more like a plea, “just please, _please_ stop crying... i can’t take it. it hurts too much.”

“I... I don’t know if I can...” She choked out, and his hands shifted from their place tangled in her hair to rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back.

“...then i’ll hold you for as long as it takes. if you’ll allow me to.”

Frisk responded by clinging to him desperately, her fingers grabbing at his broad shoulders for grounding. Again, she heard the sound of the strange inexplicable pulsing within his chest; it was even louder than before, almost as if demanding its existence to be known. The curious thumping against his bones calmed her, and it wasn’t long after that she felt her own heartbeat slowing down, the flow of her tears beginning to slow, and with that the mysterious palpitations next to her other ear began to fade as well.

By the time her tearful fit had reached its conclusion, Frisk was left feeling embarrassed and ashamed over that spontaneous emotional outburst. She had put Sans in an uncomfortable position, she was sure, both figuratively and literally – when he had reached out to embrace her, she had been maneuvered until she was more or less in his lap. Not quite there, but close enough that it would be undoubtedly awkward should he notice and decide to bring attention towards it.

But when she mustered the courage to look him in the eye sockets again, she found nothing but sympathy and concern in his gaze.

“you alright now, pumpkin?” He inquired softly with the tiniest frown.

“Yeah, I’m all cried out. My eyes are entirely _bone dry_ now.” She replied with a laugh that was just as dry as she claimed her eyes currently were.

Sans quietly chuckled at the pun before his expression turned serious. “i’m so sorry, frisk. i didn’t mean to make you cry. that was all my fault – i shouldn’t have been so insensitive when there were so many other ways i could’ve gone about telling you.”

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong, Sans. You weren’t being insensitive; I was being too sensitive and couldn’t handle what you said in a mature manner. It was entirely my fault Sans, all mine.” Before he could protest, she continued, “I guess that what you said just surprised me... I mean, I knew that things must be bad between our races, considering what happened in the past, but... hearing that so many monsters hate me already even though I’ve never met them... I suppose that just got to me is all.”

“they don’t hate you, pumpkin. i don’t think anyone could.”

Sans didn’t know how wrong he was, she thought.

“the problem is that they just don’t know you. they don’t know you like i do.” He smiled tenderly at her. “i think that if the rest of the monsters here that feel the way they do about humans got to know you, if they gave you a fair chance, every single one of them would inevitably fall in love with you. ......like i did.”

She almost gaped at him once Frisk processed what it was he had said.

Sans had most definitely said that he loved her, and he had said it with a glowing deep blue blush coating the majority of his cheekbones area. What he had said was unquestionably sweet, but she was left wondering in what sense was he referring to when he professed his love. Surely, it must be of the platonic sort, or possibly even the familial. As implausibly tolerant as he was towards her kind, surely he, a monster, wouldn’t develop _feelings_ for a human...

She gathered what was left of her wits and asked him for clarification.

“...What do you mean, ‘like you did’? What does that mean?”

“whatever you want it to.” He replied simply, punctuating his statement with a swift peck against the crown of her head.

Her face screwed into a look of irritation and confusion – that answered nothing at all. If anything, it only left her with more questions.

What _did_ she want it to mean? This wasn’t the first time that she pondered the state of their relationship, especially once Sans had began kissing her as often as he did. These thoughts only multiplied once she began anticipating his affectionate gestures and eventually returning them.

She didn’t know what she wanted it to be; she was still confused over her exact feelings towards him, but what Frisk did know was, she liked Sans. In what way, she wasn’t completely certain – but she liked him.

“...why don’t we talk about something else, something lighter.” He suggested, snapping Frisk out of her reverie.

“Wait. I have one other question about this humans and monsters subject. One more.”

“alright...” He responded cautiously, at least willing to hear her out.

“What makes you different from them?” Noticing signs of perplexity surfacing on his skull, she elaborated, “Why do you feel the way you do about humans, showing them mercy, when the other monsters apparently don’t? Why are you different?”

Sans appeared to hesitate before replying, but when he did, he wore a grin that was different than the other ones she had seem from him; beaming, almost proud.

“the reason why i’m like i am is because of my older brother.” His sockets closed, seeming to reminisce. “he was obsessed with humans, despite everything he had always been told about them growing up. the rest of the underground thought that he was an oddball, but he was determined to show everyone down here that humans weren’t as bad as all the stories from the war made them out to be.”

Frisk smiled at the fondness he clearly showed for his brother, but then a certain detail she discerned in his speech commanded her attention – Sans spoke of him in past tense.

“...Sans? Did... Did something happen? ...To your brother?”

His grin then turned into a grimace. “he’s... he’s no longer with us. he passed away. and i’d... _really_ rather not talk about what happened.”

“That’s okay! You’ve told me enough now; we can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

“...but what about you, though?” He questioned, his voice sounding strained to her for some reason. “what about your family on the surface?”

“Oh, them...” Now it was her turn to frown. “I have a mother and a younger sister. I doubt either of them has noticed I’m gone. Or anyone I know, for that matter.”

“that can’t be true. i refuse to believe that could ever be true. ...what kind of relationship do you have with your sister?”

“She hates my guts.” Frisk stated none too delicately.

“...oh.” Sans looked at her with all the consolation that he could summon, as if it was the most tragic thing he had ever heard. “i’m sorry... ...i have a younger sibling myself. another brother. we... we haven’t spoken for some time. ...he did something. something terrible. something so horrible that perhaps it’s even unforgiveable, and i haven’t been able to look at him the same way ever since. ...so i left, and moved here, into our old childhood home. the one place in the underground i know he’ll never think to look for me.”

“So you sort of understand how it is, to feel this way about a sibling. I don’t hate my sister, but I... I really can’t say I like her either.”

“i as well wouldn’t say i hate him, for what he did. ...i don’t think i could ever say that i hate my brother, but i’m not sure if i can ever bring myself to forgive him for what he did, much less allow him to reenter my life when i’m reasonably sure he isn’t sorry for what happened between us that caused the rift in the first place.”

“...And it just got worse after the dispute that caused you to leave. Everyone takes the side of your younger brother over yours.”

“you know us so well, it’s as if you were actually there to experience everything there is that exists between the two of us.”

“Like I said, I kind of understand where you’re coming from, maybe.”

“...but you don’t deserve to know what that’s like.” He cupped her cheek with one of his large palms, staring deeply into her eyes. “you deserve the best life has to offer, frisk. not... whatever it was that you went through on the surface. not whatever it was that caused you to come to this stars forsaken mountain, of all places.”

“You might be the only one to think so, Sans.”

“...then i’ll love you enough for all of them.” Sans murmured as he rested one of his large palms over hers, cradling her hand as if it were something irreplaceably precious.

Another lengthy moment of silence passed between them, far longer but also far more peaceful than the one before. It held the sense of calmness that followed after a harsh and heavy storm, a reminder that the terror had passed and those who weathered through it were permitted to relax and put their qualms at ease.

Sans wrapped his free arm around Frisk’s shoulders, bringing her closer to him than she had ever been, but still not quite to the extent that she was sitting in his lap. He gently urged her to rest her head against his shoulder, and she did, feeling exhausted from her crying episode earlier. He then rested his own atop hers, his eye sockets closing contentedly with a soft pleased hum.

Before she slipped into a state of slumber, Frisk thought she heard him repeat in a hushed whisper that he loved her, as if to remind her in case this detail had somehow been forgotten.

How could she forget? It was the first time someone had said something like that to her with so much emotion and sincerity.

Sans did love her, she realized, more than anyone in her life ever had. Perhaps that was why she found herself accepting his kisses and tender touches so easily, and even reciprocating them. Now that she had learned what real affection was from him, Frisk was almost constantly starved for it, though she never once voiced this aloud, far to embarrassed and more than enough ashamed for thinking and feeling such things.

Thankfully, she never had to. Sans was more than enough willing to provide her with the attention she so secretly craved, as long as his shyness didn’t interfere - and even then, that aspect of him was swiftly vanishing.

...So why was it that Frisk at times longed for what was found elsewhere, on the surface?

As lovely as Sans’s house was, after a few weeks had passed of her having regained her ability to walk, the girl was beginning to get a little stir crazy. The need to move her legs and explore what lied beyond was becoming unbearable, and the walls of the tiny cottage were feeling smaller and smaller every day, to the point it was near suffocating.

She needed fresh air. She needed to _breathe_.

“and just where do you think you’re going?”

Sans had caught her attempting to exit through the door in the hallway; not the one with the descending stairs – he was adamant about not letting her go down there. He insisted it was a basement, but he would have a reaction that was close to a panic attack whenever she would venture too close to it. Perhaps he was afraid she would stumble down them and injure herself further?

Anyway, it wasn’t quite accurate to say he had _caught_ her – Frisk wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was heading outside, but judging from the tone the skeleton used when he noticed her, it was clearly no different than if she had.

“I was going outside?”

“absolutely out of the question.” He responded swiftly and sternly.

“But Sans! I... I’m feeling a bit cramped here!” She spoke over his objections. “I’ve tried walking back and forth from the living room to the end of the hallway to get rid of this feeling, but it’s just not working anymore!”

“ **no**.” He nearly growled, surprising her slightly, but there was a distinct fear in his eye sockets.

“...Are you afraid that a monster is gonna see me, realize I’m human, and then attack me or something?” Frisk inquired, the possibility of such a thing occurring having now just dawned upon her.

“that... that’s not the only thing i’m worried about. most of the monsters that live here would accept and adore you if they got to know you, i’m absolutely sure of this, but... it’s not really them you and i should be so concerned with here – it’s flowey.”

“...Oh _yeah_. _**Him**_...” She had honestly almost forgotten about him, fortunately.

“if he found you again, if he decided to come back here despite what happened then... i’m afraid that he might try to, ah..., ‘ _finish the job_ ’ from last time...”

“If he wanted to do that, then why hasn’t he tried to after all this time since he almost killed me? Is it because of you?”

“i think that might be a possible explanation as to why he’s never tried ambushing this place.” He gestured to the space around them, the little cottage that he called home, “even when he’d have to know that i’m sleeping, and as much as he obviously detests me, he’s never tried to sneak inside and attack me during the night. ...i believe it might be because... he’s afraid of me.”

After hearing the voice Sans spoke to him with and witnessing what he had done to the evil flower, Frisk could understand why he would now.

“Well, if you’re so afraid that he’d attack me and so sure that he’s scared of you, then why not go with me?”

“...pardon?”

“Go. With. Me. On a walk through the Ruins.” She bounced eagerly on her heels, stretching out her hand for him to take. “Everything should be fine then, right? As long as you’re with me.”

He was so quiet and for so long that she was afraid Sans was attempting to sort out the easiest way to deny her in his head. However, a bright blue blush eventually found its way on and covered his cheeks, and slowly, he took her hand in his.

“...at the first sign of trouble, we’re coming back. immediately.”

“Understood.” She happily agreed, then gave their conjoined hands a tug forward. “Come on, old man! Let’s get those feet moving!”

“i’ve already told you before – i’m not _that_ old.”

“Then you should start acting your age – prove you’re not by shaking a leg and getting a move on!”

And so walks around the Ruins became a part of their daily routine. At first Sans was insistent that they remain restricted to his front yard and the area around it, but as their days together outside increased, he gradually became more lenient and they would travel a little further than the previous day. Eventually, the pair reached the beginning of the cavern, where Frisk had fallen down some time ago.

And there awaiting them was a sharp bone stabbed into the ground, the marrow thickly coated in a light green colored fluid.

Though the vile flower was nowhere to be found, this spiteful act was enough for both to be made aware that he had indeed survived being stabbed in the stem by Sans. He highly doubted that Flowey would feel up to trying anything gutsy while he was here, but the arm he had wrapped around Frisk to steady her tightened protectively, in preparation should his assumption turn out to be wrong.

Frisk’s attention eventually strayed from the spear made of bone to the bed of flowers that had broken her fall.

“Y’know, it’s kind of funny in a really surreal way. I was almost killed by a literally living flower right at this spot, but if it weren’t for those flowers, I might not have even survived the fall down here.”

An oddly morose look crossed Sans’s face as he stared down at the bed of buttercups, feeling his sockets moisten.

_“oh gaster... even after everything that happened back then, even while in the grave, you’re still doing everything within your power to help humankind... that’s just like something you would do...”_

When his older brother had died, crumbled away to dust right before him, Sans remembered his request, in his final breaths, that he be given a human burial. Humans buried their dead underneath the earth, and while he certainly didn’t understand it or even try to, Sans honored this, as it was the last thing he could do for him. His younger brother had staunchly protested this, demanding that his dust be scattered in front of the barrier, closest to the surface that most monsters longed to one day see and experience, but Sans fulfilled their dear departed brother’s final desire anyway, despite the anger he had outwardly expressed.

Sans had felt just as furious at the time, but he respected Gaster enough to not argue against his dying wishes.

And as he carried the sleeping Frisk home due to her having valiantly struggled but failed to remain awake about one third of the way back, Sans was more grateful than ever that he had heeded his older brother’s parting words of wisdom. If he hadn’t, then he was absolutely certain that he never would have met and fallen so deeply and hopelessly in love with the woman he held in his arms.

The mere thought brought a cold chill of pure terror down his spine, but he managed to will it away by focusing on the weight and warmth present of the adorable human he held so closely to his SOUL in the most literal and figurative definition imaginable.

She was here. She was safe.

Here and safe, with him.

And she always would be, if he had any say in it.

~~~~~~~~~~

“ _ **i beg your pardon?!**_ ”

Sans had all but yelped that one fateful morning at breakfast, having spat out his tea all over the tablecloth in his shock. Frisk didn’t think that what she had to say would have surprised him as much as it did, but he had immediately proven her wrong.

“Sans, are you alright?!” She rose up from her chair, scampered over to his side, and began rapidly patting his back even though she wasn’t certain if choking worked the same for skeleton monsters as it did for humans.

“yes... i’m fine...” His voice still sounded hoarse from all his sputtering. “you just... surprised me. that’s all.”

It had been well over four months since she had found herself in his care. Her injuries had healed entirely, and as much as she enjoyed Sans’s companionship, Frisk understood that she was overstaying her welcome and it was time for her to leave. He spent basically every single waking moment by her side, only going outside when they took their walks through the Ruins – this was not the sort of life that he should live. She couldn’t keep imposing on him like this, no matter how much he insisted that she wasn’t. He was just too kind for his own good.

Telling him of her plans to go was more painful for her than he would ever know, if she could help it – she had to be firm with him, make her intentions clear and show no indication of hesitation or doubt, otherwise he might just convince her to stay. She had held off on bringing up this subject for long enough, and Frisk felt this was something that had to be done.

Sans appeared utterly miserable at the revelation that she was indeed leaving, and this almost made her retract her previous statement. However, he managed to muster a smile for her before she could and asked,

“but before you go, would you at least have one last cup of tea with me?”

How could she turn away such an innocent request, especially accompanied with a face like that?

Sans had asked her to wait in the living room for him; they would also read one more book together – again, she couldn’t find it within her to say no, even though it would undoubtedly make it all the more difficult for her to leave.

It was halfway through his narration of the adventures starring a fluffy bunny and after she had finished her cup that it happened – Frisk was struck with a sudden and overpowering sensation of drowsiness. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and Sans’s voice was beginning to sound far away even though she was right next to him.

She reached out to weakly clutch onto his sleeve, and he stopped mid-sentence.

“frisk?”

“Sans... I... I can’t...” She mumbled, her words sounding slurred to her own ears.

“can’t what? what’s wrong?” He questioned, setting the storybook to the side just in time for her to collapse onto his lap. “frisk!”

“I’m sorry... I can’t anymore... I can’t...” She fought against the darkness of sleep that threatened to overtake her, but it was all in vain, she realized. “I can’t... stay awake... anymore...”

Then everything. _Went_. **Black**.

When she finally awoke from what had felt like a thousand-year sleep, the first thing that came into Frisk’s steadily returning vision was the familiar walls of the guest room and Sans’s worried face hovering over her, his eyelights having been reduced to tiny trembling pinpricks. The relief that washed over his expression was instantaneous, letting out a sigh of repose as he reached out to tenderly cradle her cheek.

“pumpkin, how are you feeling? ...speak to me, baby girl.”

“Sans...” She whimpered, still feeling lightheaded and weak. “...I feel like I’m made of stone and I’m falling. ...It’s horrible. I’m scared.”

“frisk... i’m sorry... i’m so, _so_ sorry...” Sans looked to be on the verge of tears; she wasn’t sure why he would be saying he was sorry – he had nothing to apologize for, no reason to blame himself. “...that unpleasant sensation of yours might go away in a few minutes. i hope... but frisk...? i think it might be best if you stay with me for a while longer, until you recover from this. maybe a few more days? on the chance that this might happen again?”

“I... I think you might be right about that.” She groaned, her body feeling heavy as lead. “Because I can’t go anywhere like this. I can barely even move my head from side to side, much less my arms and legs. ...I’m the one that should really be sorry, Sans. You were finally going to be free of me, haha... And now you’re stuck with the burden of taking care of me again.”

“hush. that’s enough of that.” He placed a bony finger against her lips. “i... i’ve never for a single instance seen you as a burden, frisk. and right now is no different. i’ll watch over and take care of you for as long as need be. because i love you...”

She certainly believed him; there were no lingering doubts in her heart that he did, but Frisk still felt as though she didn’t deserve his love.

The next few days passed by in a hazy blur. Frisk had once again regained mobility, late into the day after she had abruptly lost consciousness, but her motions and steps were still unpredictable and wobbly. Sans would take her by the hand and gently lead her wherever it was she needed to go, just like when she was relearning to walk when the bones in her legs had healed. She would outwardly bemoan how helpless she had become, but Sans persisted with his assertions that he didn’t mind offering her his assistance in the slightest.

Sans rarely ever left her side since she arrived here, but today was one of those extremely rare occasions where he was forced to.

Her skeletal pal had to run errands and leave her all alone for several hours – the supply of food in the house was running dreadfully low, so much so that the cabinets and fridge were practically empty. This was a task that must be done, Sans bitterly lamented, and he resolved to get it done and over with as quickly as possible so he could return to his dearly beloved human.

Frisk did enjoy his presence, immensely so, but she also had to admit to herself that it was nice to finally have some alone time. The girl decided to take this opportunity to further explore the house in ways she couldn’t before. Like the basement that he was so determined to keep her out of. Every time she asked about it, he always gave her a different excuse as to why she shouldn’t wander down there when she pressed him enough. It was dirty down there, it was cold, it was dusty, she could get hurt...

But something was calling her to it.

She waited at least half an hour after Sans had left to begin her private research – just in case he forgot something and came back. She couldn’t have that. This felt so childish, a part of her argued, and perhaps it was. But as much as she adored him, Frisk was more than a bit put off with the way that he would sometimes treat her like an incompetent clumsy child that needed to constantly be looked after. Sans knew she wasn’t one and he had let her know on more than one occasion that he acknowledged this, but that didn’t stop him from babying her far more than necessary. Sometimes, she genuinely enjoyed it. And other times, it became annoying. And the past few days, it had been annoying.

This was her tiny little slice of revenge! And Sans would never have to know, because it’s not like she would ever see him again after all this was over anyway...

Frisk had previously pondered just how she was going to escape the Underground and return to the surface when she finally got around to doing it, and just where the rest of the Underground even was... and now she knew where to begin.

At the end of the long, _empty_ , hallway that Sans had frequently claimed was a basement, was a massive set of doors.

There was a chilling air emanating around and from beyond them, so he hadn’t been completely misleading her about that. Everything else, though? Frisk now acknowledged that he had been more or less lying to her - and the worst part about that was, there was absolutely no reason for him to, as far as she understood.

This discovery shouldn’t have been anything to obsess over, but she couldn’t help but feel a slight sting of betrayal.

With nothing else to gawk at down here, she spun on her heel and headed back upstairs to continue her investigation.

The next item on her list was to traverse the other room that was branded taboo for her to enter. Not Sans’s room, no; she was almost always welcome there. The room at the very end of the hallway next to the mirror with the sign hanging on it that said ‘room under renovations’. It was entirely possible and believable that it truly was being reconditioned, but she’s had a hunch ever since she first laid eyes on it that there was something more to what lied beyond that door, something mysterious that the normally kindly skeleton didn’t want her seeing or bearing knowledge of.

Well, Frisk was never one to follow directions to the exact letter.

And it wasn’t like the sign placed on the door was telling her _not_ to enter. The very same could be said of her visiting the lower level of the house. Sans had never once directly instructed her not to enter either, so there was no fault to be found in doing so.

At least, this is what she tried to convince herself of as she twisted the knob, the guilt for merely touching it flooding her system. She could make all the excuses she wanted, bring forth all the technicalities that existed surrounding what she was doing, but deep inside her heart and SOUL, Frisk knew that this was wrong, that she was invading a space that Sans didn’t want her to step foot into.

...But that still didn’t stop her from doing it.

The people that frequented her life in the past had often told Frisk while growing up that her curiosity would one day bring about her undoing. Perhaps they were right about that – she wouldn’t have gotten herself into this entire situation in the first place were it not for her inquisitive nature. Curiosity may indeed kill the cat, but the latter half of the saying was so often forgotten or dismissed.

And right at this moment in time, Frisk was once again treading into dangerous territory in her never-ending quest for satisfaction.

The door let out a slow creak that echoed horribly throughout the hallway, causing her to jolt and search for any sign of her caretaker while simultaneously struggling to formulate a believable justification for what she was doing before regaining her bearings and reminding herself that Sans was nowhere inside the house.

Tentatively, she tiptoed into the dark room.

The light that was cast from the hallway provided some much-needed illumination; she could see a wooden trunk of some sort next to a small child-sized bed, no _two_. One was decorated in blue sheets, and the other orange. Stepping closer, Frisk spotted something carved into the headboards of each. She inspected the blue one first – ‘ _Sans_ ’ was chiseled in pretty cursive writing, accompanied by little artistic whittlings of bones.

This must have been his old bed from when he was a babybones, she thought with delight – after constantly being dwarfed the big guy for so long, it was almost impossible for her to imagine that he had ever been that small!

The second bed must have been his brother’s, then. Where his name had been on the first, the name ‘ _Papyrus_ ’ was scrawled.

She wondered what had caused the two brothers to separate. She hadn’t asked Sans about it, hadn’t even mentioned his brother again after that one time, since the subject seemed to deeply depress him.

She doubted that this tiny bedroom would provide her with any answers, but Frisk wanted to look over everything that was present regardless.

The girl then turned her attention towards the chest that was situated between the two beds; there was a lock on it, she noticed despairingly. Was the key somewhere in this room? Or was it hidden in Sans’s? Or perhaps elsewhere in the house? After a swift but thorough search, she decided that it couldn’t be anywhere here.

It was time to search Sans’s room.

Meticulously, she poked through his belongings, making certain that everything was in its exact place prior to her tampering with it before moving onto another area. She peeked under the king-sized bed, in the compartments of his desk, even his sock drawer (scandalous!), and caught not a single glimpse of the key she was seeking. Just as she was considering giving up on her curious quest, sitting on the bed with an irritated huff and a pout, a sudden thought, or rather a heightened sense of intuition came to her. And with it followed a burst of determination to finish what she had began.

She then stood up and immediately thrust her hand beneath the mattress, groping the space between the fabric case and the rest of the bed until her fingers touched something cool and metallic. Frisk clasped her fingers around it and withdrew her arm from the cushiony confine and found that the object was indeed a key. Perhaps not the one she was looking for, but a key nonetheless.

She sprinted back to the chest and jammed the key into the lock; it fit perfectly, and when she twisted it, the latch came undone with a satisfying click. Setting both to the side, Frisk then lifted the lid to the trunk.

Inside it was... clothes. A lot of clothes. Specifically children’s clothes. Nothing too surprising, seeing as she was currently standing in what for all intents and purposes appeared to be the brothers’ childhood bedroom, but something felt... strangely _off_ to her about them.

She pushed the garments out of the way, rummaging through the contents of the trunk for anything else of interest; she uncovered one other thing – a book.

Opening the cover revealed it to be a photo album. Frisk flipped through the pages, barely stifling the squeal that threatened to escape at the adorable sight of Sans as a small chubby child – she would swear her heart skipped a beat. The photographs in front of her were so precious that they almost hurt her heart!

Taking the album, Frisk sat down on the floor to get more comfortable as she witnessed more scenes from his life. One that particularly stood out was little Sans grinning as he was being held by a much taller and older skeleton with one arm, while another one with small beady eyes was slung over his other shoulder, giggling. Underneath the photo was written in that same exquisite cursive writing, ‘ _I take a day off to spend with Sans and Papyrus! It’s obvious they’ve missed me a lot, even though I’ve been right there with them this entire time..._ ’.

Frisk felt her heart throb a bit again, this time out of sadness – this family was so happy in the past. She may not know their entire story, but whatever happened to them wasn’t fair at all.

More and more photos of the two young brothers and this other skeleton appeared. In many of them, the adult brother was wearing a robe and crown, with the boys wearing similar regal finery. It was only when she saw a picture of the three, all sitting on extravagant thrones in the backdrop of what most definitely seemed to be a castle that the ball dropped.

If this man was indeed the kind of monsters... then that made Sans a prince.

At once, a pathway to a possible answer, though still foggy in places, had been revealed to her; a reasoning as to why Sans had chosen to live here after he fought with his younger brother. Sans had previously mentioned that his older brother adored humans. After he passed away, the two must have had a disagreement involving this. Sans clearly loved them as well, and though he should have been next in line for the throne, it was entirely plausible that monsterkind rejected his rule because of this.

However, what she next discovered on the following pages caused her blood to run cold.

There were photos of Sans, now an adult, posed alongside children. Human children. She counted six different ones, three boys and three girls, with none ever appearing in the same picture together. But perhaps the most startling thing of all that she became aware of was that the clothes they wore were identical to the ones stowed away in the trunk where she had found the album.

_...What happened to all these children?_

They escaped the Underground, Frisk attempted to convince herself so she wouldn’t lose her mind. But a terrible ache in the pit of her stomach argued otherwise. If they had successfully returned to the surface, then why would their belongings be here? Something had happened to them, that much her heightened intuition was certain of.

...But _surely_ Sans didn’t have anything to do with it. 

...... _Did he?_

She didn’t have to ponder over this for long, because the sudden creaking of the door behind her alerted Frisk to the presence of another. There he was, the very monster she had just begun to doubt, standing there at the doorframe, having caught her rummaging through his personal belongings in a room that he had all but explicitly stated through thinly veiled hints that he wanted her to stay out of and away from.

His expression was unreadable to her. He gazed at her with wide, empty sockets, his usual grin entirely absent on his face – his mouth was set in a firm line that conveyed no emotion whatsoever. Sans didn’t say a word, didn’t move a single bone that composed his skeletal body. He just stared at her with those giant vacant black holes in the front of his skull.

And Frisk then knew that what she had done, had utterly broken him.

“Sans... I...” She spoke, her voice near unintelligibly faint, but after a few more seconds of silence, Frisk gave up on any attempt to explain herself – there was nothing to say, nothing she _could_ say to make this situation she had created any better.

He took one step towards her and she flinched. At this, the round white lights in his sockets returned, their appearance comparable to twin full moons in a starless night sky. They were large and gave off the impression of being unbearably sad, and the thin line of his mouth had morphed into a deep frown that dragged down the corners of his mouth further than she’d ever seen them before.

“...it’s not what you think.” He whispered, his voice sounding unnatural and croaky, as if holding back a sob. “i swear, it’s not. i didn’t do anything to them, frisk.”

She clutched the photo album closer, wrapping her arms around its cover and pressing it against her chest as if it were a lifeline. She didn’t move, aside from her trembling. She was firmly locked into place while being subjected to his probing gaze.

“...What happened to them then, Sans?” She fearfully questioned, her inquiry leaving her lips as nothing more than a murmur. “Who are these children?”

“...they were mine.” He said at last, taking a shuddering breath. “they were like you – they fell down here and i took care of them. they stayed a while, and then they left me. ...and then i never saw any of them again.”

“...Where are they now?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know.

He mumbled something unintelligible.

“I can’t hear you, Sans. You’re... you’re going to have to speak up if you want me to understand what it is that you’re saying...”

His shoulders were shaking, violently so. His tightly closed fists were clenching the fabric of his robe so roughly that it threatened to tear.

“Sans...?”

“ **for the love of god, frisk! _don’t make me say it!_** ”

His sudden shout caused her to cry out in alarm, letting out a short shriek of fright as she looked into those usually gentle, sleepy, and loving sockets that now displayed nothing but indescribable anguish, boundless sorrow, and unbridled fury.

Frisk didn’t push him further for an answer, but he gave her one regardless.

“ **you want to know where they are now, what happened to them?!** ” He hissed, his expression contorting to a hateful grimace as he thundered towards her. “ **they’re _dead_ , frisk. they _died_**... **_and he was the one that killed them!_** ”

“ _Who?!_ ” She inadvertently yelped, shambling backwards to put some distance between them until her back inevitably hit the wall.

“ **the king of monsters! the ruler of the underground! papyrus! my _brother!_** ” He howled in agony, his head tipping backwards with his scream while hot tears poured endlessly down his cheeks. “ **he killed every single one of them! one after the other! he made it _law_ for any human discovered in the underground to be executed! and he didn’t show any of them the slightest shred of mercy, even though they were just children and he _knew_ they were mine!**”

At the end of his outburst, Sans then collapsed onto his knees, pounding the wooden flooring underneath him with his fists as though doing this would lessen the pain he felt inside by even the smallest of amounts.

He wouldn’t look at her, his head hung low as he glared at the floor with as much hatred as he could muster.

“before our older brother passed, all he asked of us in his final moments was to love them, the humans. to grant them mercy despite everything... despite what the humans had done to him...” He said with a wet sob. “papyrus was angry... and i was too. but i respected him enough to obey his last request. it’s what he would have wanted. not... not _**this!**_ he _ **never**_ would have wanted humans to die and another war to be declared in his name! _ **i**_ knew that, so i don’t know why papyrus would think that senseless violence and bloodshed was what he would have wanted as a direct result of his own death, when what he requested was the _**exact opposite**_!”

Somewhere during Sans’s speech, Frisk had begun wailing herself, filled with remorse and regret.

She had wanted answers... but not like _this_.

She hadn’t expected her baneful curiosity would eventually lead to him becoming so upset that he would be reduced to a bawling puddle of bones before her very eyes.

“I’m sorry...! I’m _so_ , **so** sorry, Sans!” She sniveled, shamefully burying her face into her hands.

She would have fully understood if he slapped her for betraying his trust the instant his back had been turned and causing him to relive such unpleasant, traumatic memories. What she didn’t understand was him weakly crawling towards her before gathering her trembling form in his arms, holding her close to him as if she were the most important thing in the world.

“...you know what this means, don’t you, frisk?” He mumbled throatily as he nuzzled the top of her head with his nasal ridge. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “you can’t _ever_ leave this place, frisk. you can’t ever leave _me_... because the moment you do, the moment the other monsters find you, they’ll kill you.”

“...I can’t ever go to the surface again?”

“no, pumpkin. i’m sorry...”

“But...” Any protests that she may have had instantly died on her lips.

“i know this is a lot to take in, pumpkin. i said so before, that i really do believe if the rest of the monsters got to know you, if they would only give you the chance, they would grow to love you. ...but i thought the exact same of them, the children...”

“You... You told me that it would be three and a half months...” She recalled aloud, eyes wide. “You said it would be three months and a half months until I could move. Until I could leave-”

“i never said then that you could leave!” He cut her off, his expression and tone severe. “i said that’s how long it would take for you to make a complete recovery. ...i never _once_ mentioned the possibility of you leaving the ruins.”

“But you led me to believe that I could.” She argued, a hint of accusation in her own tone. “...Just when were you planning on telling me the truth? About all of this?”

“i... i was going to, believe me, i was!” His front teeth bit down on the bottom of his mouth, a trait of his that manifested when under extreme stress. “it’s just... it seemed as if you enjoyed being with me. i thought... why bring up such a grim topic when you appeared perfectly happy?”

“I _was_ happy... Being with you, Sans... every day felt like something to look forward to. You’ve given me perhaps some of the happiest moments of my life so far.”

“so naturally, you would want to leave me.” He bitterly spat, aiming a spurned pointed glare at her as he sarcastically added, “oh, i understand. i understand _perfectly_ why you would want to leave now, frisk.”

“Sans-”

He abruptly grabbed her face, cradling her cheeks with his big skeletal hands, forcing her to look at him.

“would staying here really be as horrible as you obviously think it will be? because... because your only other option here... is _**death!**_ would you really rather die a senseless death than stay here with me? is that the point that you’re trying to get across?!”

“Sans, you know that’s not-”

“then _what?! **what have i done wrong?!**_ ”

He was getting hysterical again, Frisk realized. She needed to say or do something that would settle him down.

“Sans, you’ve done nothing wrong.” She calmly lied, patting his still quaking shoulders consolingly. “This is... This is just a lot to take in at once, like you said. I think I might just need some time for it all to sink in. Can you give me that? Some time?”

“......ok.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “if time is all you need, i can give you that. i’ll... i’ll give you anything you want, frisk. anything within my power and the bounds of reason. just... _**please don’t leave me!**_ ”

She didn’t say anything else; she just continued to soothingly stroke his bones until he regained his composure. By the time he did, it was late. And after all of that crying, both agreed that it was almost time for bed. Sans had cooked dinner for them, but Frisk told him that she had lost her appetite. He believed her excuse, but then told her that she was eating double portions at the breakfast table to make up for the lost meal.

For a long while after having headed back to the guest room, Frisk just laid back on the bed, arms held behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.

Waiting.

After no less than two hours had passed, this was when she decided to make her move. She climbed off the bed and took one last look at her surroundings that had become so familiar to her these past few months... then carefully crept down the hallway.

When she reached Sans’s room, she pressed her ear against the door and stilled her breath, listening. He didn’t snore when he slept, she had learned that some time ago, but he did audibly mumble. About what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Sometimes his murmuring made some amount of sense and on other occasions it was utter nonsense, but the meaning of his unconscious soliloquies wasn’t what she needed to dwell on.

No, what she couldn’t forget, the single thought that wouldn’t leave her mind and likely wouldn’t for some time was – Sans had _drugged_ her.

It was the tea that he had fed her immediately after she had mentioned leaving several days ago, this she was sure of. She had become weak and lost consciousness shortly after swallowing it. It had seemed like a mere coincidence then, but now, after having witnessed firsthand his desperation to keep her here...

He may have had the best of intentions in doing so, but she couldn’t be around someone that would drug her, no matter how remorseful he was about it.

Now certain that he was deep in sleep, Frisk then made her way towards the descending staircase. Her heart hammered inside her chest with every step she took, but she had managed to make it down into the hallway underneath the house without making any noise.

As she rounded the corner, Frisk let out a long, soft sigh she hadn’t been aware she was holding. It was only a matter of time before she left this place behind, forever, and then it would be a fight for her own survival.

But despite how terrifying Sans had made it sound...

Frisk felt determined. Determined that she could survive the trials that awaited her in the Underground and reach the surface.

But this sudden spark of determination was immediately snuffed out when she saw who was waiting for her at the end of the hallway.

“this is the second time today that you’ve broken my trust, pumpkin.” Sans’s voice was unsettlingly calm considering the situation. “we’ve still got some time left until midnight – want to try and make it a third?”

_...Where had he come from? How could he have made it to the doors before her when he would have had to of passed her in order to do so?_

“...I thought you were asleep.”

“i could say the same for you.”

“How did you know? Were you awake the whole time and heard me in the hallway upstairs? Did you know the exact moment when I got out of bed?”

“no, i was definitely asleep. i didn’t hear a thing. but i felt it. i could feel you getting further and further away from me...” Sans’s left hand rose up to clutch at the fabric of his robe directly atop where his heart would be, if he had one. “...you’re really doing a number on my SOUL tonight, you know that, right?”

“Sans, let me go.”

“ **no!** i’ll never let you go! i can’t! what part of _**certain death**_ lying beyond this door are you not comprehending?!”

“I think I can make it to the surface, Sans.” She tried to remain firm with her resolution, standing her ground against him. “Those other humans did die before me, but they were children-”

“yes! you’re absolutely correct! they most certainly _were_ children!” Came his dry, barking laughter. “and if monsterkind wouldn’t show mercy towards an innocent child, what makes you believe they would towards a stubborn adult woman?”

“I... I don’t know! I just think I can-”

“they all said the exact same thing! they _all_ believed they were unstoppable...” He scowled at her, one of his pupils disappearing and the other turning a brightly glowing blue. “and i was convinced that this was true. all of their deaths were the result of my negligence. their demises are entirely my mistakes. ... **but i won’t be making that same mistake again**.”

Sans then raised his hand and a red heart, cartoonish in shape, burst from her chest. Its color then changed to a deep blue, and an unanticipated weight fell over her, not unlike the one that came when she consumed his drugged tea. She found it incredibly difficult to move, but not impossible.

Frisk took a few staggering steps towards him, towards the door. However, the girl was stopped in her tracks when she was magically lifted up into the air. She struggled to shake off the invisible grip his mysterious power had over her, but it was no use.

“Sans, put me down!” She hissed, narrowing her eyes at him in warning, but he wasn’t even looking at her.

He was looking down the hallway, where both of them had come from. He then began walking in that direction, with her still dangling in midair.

“Are you... Are you seriously going to leave me here like this?!” She yelped.

“of course not. it’s cold here.” He huffed, motioning her body forward with her having no choice but to obey his command.

“What... What are you going to do to me, then?” She fearfully inquired, causing his hardened gaze to soften just slightly.

“the first thing i’m going to do is put you to bed for the night. ...i’m not going to hurt you, pumpkin, if that’s what you’re thinking. _never_.” He assured her in his usual low and gentle tone. “...but if you insist on acting like a child, then i’m going to treat you like one until you can behave like the grown woman you actually are.”

As she was being dragged away, Frisk took one last look at the door that separated the Ruins from the rest of the Underground, knowing that she wouldn’t be seeing it again for a long, long time, if ever.


End file.
